


pacific rimming

by pixiepuff (colourmecrunchy), rou



Category: Merlin (TV) RPF
Genre: HAPPY BIRTHDAY GRACECAKES, M/M, Plot What Plot, a dusty wip that finally had a good reason to be dug out and finished, attempted humour, awesome art done by the one and only brolin queen rou, bradley pines, colin pokerfaces, eoin is ...eoin, in bradley's family cottage no less, it's an inside joke of a 3 pilot porn jaeger team, no the title has nothing to do with pacific rim, sexytimes happen, yall know how this works
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-24
Updated: 2014-11-24
Packaged: 2018-02-26 22:02:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,198
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2667959
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/colourmecrunchy/pseuds/pixiepuff, https://archiveofourown.org/users/rou/pseuds/rou
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There are moments, when he, rather pathetically, forgets about this agreement he has with himself, or his head or heart or whatever, and nearly keels over and dies - <em>or</em>, like that one time, when he told Colin his bone structure was the finest carving art in the world done by angels, or that other time when he threw a tantrum that he wants to room with Colin instead of Tony and studiously ignored the way others gave him high eyebrows or knowing smiles, or just that one time when he got really smashed and nearly asked Colin to sit on his face.</p><p>But really. Those were extraordinary circumstances with unfortunate ideas/results and Bradley isn't necessarily proud of them. (Apart from the <em>sit on my face</em> one, he thinks that would be quite gloriously filthy and would bring much joy to both of them.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	pacific rimming

**Author's Note:**

> a humble and unworthy birthday gift for grace - because no one has given her bradley's dad's holiday house shenanigans yet ♥  
> art by rou (AO3)/brolinskeep (tumblr)  
> fic by pixiepuff (AO3)/fairiesandmilkshakes (tumblr)

Bradley James has it bad. And it’s not even his fault this time.

He’s harbouring atrocious feelings of a terrible, terrible nature, mostly too sweet to fit even in a candy shop, and he suspects dentists all over the country will soon ban him from their offices, but the emotions are sometimes also very, very perverted, and he’s not entirely sure which government facility would hospitalize him for that one.

He tries not to let it run his life.

Most of the time, anyway.

There are moments, when he, rather pathetically, forgets about this agreement he has with himself, or his head or heart or whatever, and nearly keels over and dies - _or_ , like that one time, when he told Colin his bone structure was the finest carving art in the world done by angels, or that other time when he threw a tantrum that he wants to room with Colin instead of Tony and studiously ignored the way others gave him high eyebrows or knowing smiles, or just that one time when he got really smashed and nearly asked Colin to sit on his face.

But _really_. Those were extraordinary circumstances with unfortunate ideas/results and Bradley isn't necessarily proud of them. (Apart from the _sit on my face_ one, he thinks that would be quite gloriously filthy and would bring much joy to both of them.)

So yes. Crazy for him he is, and what to do about it he knows not. He even uses this Yoda speech in real life, just to prove his common knowledge of all things geeky. He figures Colin might approve. Or not. Probably not, he hasn't even unpacked the light sabre Bradley got him yet.

He would like to explain to you, how it happened. He would. Bradley loves to talk about himself, mainly, but he also loves to talk, as an extension, about Colin, which he basically had become. And not just some stupid electric cord extension for more computer plugs when a bunch of blokes have a LAN party and bash each other in Call of duty, World of Warcraft or Skyrim, but a real extension, a proper one with his own limbs and ideas what a _real_ LAN party should look like - but Bradley doesn't want to go there because sadly, nobody is _perfectly_ perfect. Not even Colin. He's just perfect. Not Bradley’s fault, really, that the guy thinks LAN stands for Loves A Narwhal and that the party consists of rabbit food snacks and watching Animal planet all day.

Anyway.

Bradley would really love to tell you all about it, but he can't pin-point what was the turning moment for him. Which is sad, you see, because he's usually quite in sync with himself and he knows things like, when was the first time he did the laundry all by himself, and when did he promise his mum to call, or when was the last illegal smoke he had. But he can't, not for the life of him, tell you when exactly he fell _stupidly_ for Colin N. Morgan. (N standing for narwhal, naturally.)

He suspects it was one of the following:  
(yes, he's made a list, because Bradley can get very anal about this sort of thing)

(1) The ears. He figures he should write down the obvious one first and be done with it so it doesn't come back to haunt him later. Maybe he should be embarrassed about it. But he supposes not. Because Bradley is a bit like Gandalf, he _arrives precisely when he means to_ , or maybe not arrives per se, but he doesn't do embarrassed, and does stuff when he means to, especially if Colin's involved. And why on earth should anyone ever be embarrassed about liking those ears, god. Bradley's not entirely sure how many world wonders there are (six, seven?), but he'd spend the rest of his life fighting to put Colin's ears on the list, if it will ever be expanded. Just imagine. There'd be tours, freaking _tours_ to see them, and Colin would flush under such scrutiny, which would make the said ears go red and warm and Bradley would be the sole guide to the mysteries of the concavely bits and joys of the soft slope-y slopes. There'd even be drink stalls in the summer. He's got it all figured out, you see.

(2) Then there's Colin's accent. And Bradley isn't quite sure what to say here. It's kind of self-explanatory, if you've ever heard Colin gibber gabber on in his native dialect. But if he must explain - and he realizes he's being way too kind here, Jesus N Christ (in his mind, Jesus and Colin share the same middle name - they are two men in his life he hasn't quite figured out yet, so it only seems fitting), go on bloody You Tube, get yourself some popcorn and listen to Colin _speak_ (or, better yet, get yourself some lube, because afterwards you're going to need to have a wank or three) - he would tell you about the famous Colin dialect these things:  
a) it's a fucking mince pie of half-eaten words, sounds, cabbage, more half-eaten words, some slurs and a whole lot of those big, soft-looking lips going all over the place, and - Bradley forgot what he was supposed to be saying.  
Oh, b). If one is not only to enjoy but also to comprehend the exquisite art of this alien language, one must observe. And learn. And one must be patient, for it is a long process of trial and error, and then some more error, which results in a put-upon Colin, and put-upon Colin is even a mumbly-er (Bradley also likes to think vocabulary needs new words and is happy to supply some) Colin than in general. But if you prevail, then the results are astonishing, and rewarding, and there maybe aren't 70 virgins waiting for you at the finish line, but a rather skinny black-haired idiot with huge ears and lips to die for - which, Bradley thinks, is somehow infinitely better. He'd take him over 70 virgins any day.  
And then there's c), but c) is optional and entirely up to Colin himself, really. Some will never get to the c) bit, but Bradley has - countless times, and the first time it happened, his mind short-circuited just a little bit. Bradley thought his surname was nothing unusual or out of the ordinary, but when Colin came along and mutilated it to a weirdly sexy _Jams_ version like he was experiencing spleen transplant and a mind shift into a giraffe at the same time, Bradley was floored.

(3) Also, last but not least, the third thing, whatever – the laughs. And Bradley doesn't mean the actual act of laughing, though he likes that one too. Colin's face gets all scrunchy and cute and you can barely see his eyes and his ears appear even bigger, probably because they _move_ , and. Yeah. Okay so the laughing itself is pretty spectacular too. But Bradley actually meant the sense of humour. Because it's funny, really. They shouldn't be compatible in that department. They really shouldn't. Colin is all smiles and unicorns and leprechauns and cabbages and half-spewed words, and he jokes about things like Einstein, Freud, chemistry lab cat, and occasionally about Australian cattle drovers, which is a whole level higher of what Bradley’s mind even gets. But nevertheless, it's mind-boggling how they kicked right off on that one. They overlap, somehow, Colin's intellectual humour (in French, nevertheless, sometimes) and Bradley's down to earth, daft _Why is 6 afraid of 7? – Because 7 8 9_ (HAHAHAHJSK oh mannn it gets him every. single. time) brand of insanity. He lives for their pranks which combined get just the perfect blend of smart and sass and idiotic, and it's not unusual at all to find the two tucked away somewhere by some wall, sharing an apple and deep in a free-style conversation about the size of parachutes cows would need for sky-diving. It's all rather simple, see. The monkey see, monkey do approach, though Bradley isn't always entirely sure which one is the monkey. But he figures it's probably Colin. Because of the ears.

So there you have it. Bradley needs to woo Colin and he needs to woo him now. Before anyone else realizes what awesome ears and accent and sense of humour he has and tells him that. And if then Colin proceeds and sits on their face, Bradley might just - untimely and most unfortunately - die from sadness and frustration and incompleteness.

What. It's not pathetic, grief is a catalyst strong enough to cause these kind of situations. It happens. Like, okay, you want examples? Bradley will give you examples. Think of mythological creatures. Of pure-hearted and level-headed (okay there might not be much level-headedness in all this but just bear with him) and pretty creatures who mate for life and if they lose their partner (with whom they hopefully experienced some of the frolicking through the fields holdings hands or hoofs and sitting on each other’s' faces), they get so overcome with grief they just can't go on.

Think unicorns.

Bradley is certain this is a valid and justified comparison. Their love would be for the myths and they'd pick the two most beautiful unicorns to portray them.

Well.

They _would_ , but Bradley thinks they might be banned from the unicorn land because of all the ass and face business. Or at least _he_ 'd be banished. Colin appears way too innocent and naive and good-hearted so no one would even consider him an anomaly. You know that nonsense about only virgins being able to get close to unicorns? Bradley's pretty sure he can overturn this axiom due to his extensive research, because he'd expand the definition a little bit. Virgins _and Colin_ could get close to unicorns. He's pretty sure Colin isn't a virgin anymore (and if he is the world is a twisted place, really) but he's still less evil in the head than any of them. And this is partly why he wants him, too.

 

*******

 

 

An unexpected help comes a few days later in a form of one Eoin Maybe he's born with it Macken and Bradley didn't even ask. He didn't have to, mind you, because when it happened he was murmuring vicariously to himself - in Yoda talk, no less - about Colin and apparently, that was all the invitation Eoin needed. (Which wasn't much because he never waited for any kind of incentive anyway.)

"Hey gurl."  
"Hey."  
"How's the wooing of the second best Irishman doing?"  
"Second best?"  
"Well yeah."  
"Who's the first?"  
"Me?"  
"Eoin you're nobody's favourite. Least of all an _Irish_ favourite."  
"I see your lips moving but I do not understand the sounds coming out."  
"Ass."  
"I'm trying to get you some, yeah."

For some strange reason, Eoin's no beating around the bush policy was oddly refreshing and Bradley found himself telling everything. Most of it, anyway. And most of it Eoin claimed to already have known.  
He left out the unicorns, but he definitely shared the Colin Morgan's Ear Theme park/Tourist attraction bit, which Eoin dug from the first mentioning on and demanded a free pass once the thing opens for public.

"What's the main issue, then?"  
"I can't get him bloody alone, can I?"  
"Why don't you just trip him and drag him in the toilets?"  
"That's barbaric even for you, Eoin."  
"Invite him over, then?"  
"You think I didn't try that already?"  
"What happened?"  
"I'm not sure, but I'm beginning to suspect he's a bit like velcro."  
" _Velcro_."  
"Yes."  
"Because of black, spikey hair?"  
"Exactly."  
"How-"  
"It just makes people _attach_ to him, you know?"  
"His hair does?"  
"Or all of him, I don't know. But he never comes over alone, and I can't decide whether he looks scared or relieved because of it."  
"Oh man."  
"So it always ends up as a cast party, somehow."  
"Hey, why am I never invited?"  
"Because you crash these things anyway?"  
"Oh, right."  
"Yeah."  
"Hey, last time was actually pretty fab!"  
"It _would_ be, if Colin and I were alone as I'd planned, yeah."  
"Oh."  
"..."  
"Sorry."  
"Yeah well."  
"So you need him alone, then."  
"That's what I'm saying."  
"Take him away?"  
"He's not _Chinese wok to go_ from down the road, Eoin."  
"Well take him to some place nice, yeah? Like for the weekend, or-"  
"Oh my god."  
"What?"  
"That might just work, I know just the place."  
"Your parent’s cottage?"  
"My parent’s cottage."

 

***

 

So this is how Bradley ended up up to his elbows in the closet (and the irony of the statement wasn't lost on him, no, but again, he's Gandalf, so timing and comings and other important things are irrelevant), digging out warm clothes with one arm and holding the phone with the other.

from: Bradley  
Cols, you free this weekend?

from: Colin   
I think so, why?

from: Bradley  
My parents have a family cottage up north, it's lovely.

from: Colin   
Any particular reason you want to get away?

from: Bradley    
Because I'm sick of the city?

from: Colin   
YOU?

from: Bradley  
You think I can’t become one with the nature?

from: Colin   
Uhm.

from: Bradley    
Colinnn

from: Colin   
I just didn't have you for an outdoorsy type, that's all.

from: Bradley  
Who said anything about being outdoors? I can be one with the nature inside.

from: Colin    
Well what do you plan on doing there the whole weekend?

from: Bradley  
Laze about?

from: Colin   
And you can't do that at your place because?

 

 

Bradley stared at the screen for a bit and then shrugged. _Minor_ details, he thought. Seriously, what does Colin not get about cottage up north and lazing about and hopefully shagging all weekend? He left that last bit out, naturally, because unicorns like Colin can get scared easily, virgin or not, but that doesn't mean he didn't have plans.

An hour and a half later, when he rang Colin from bellow his block of flats and a confused Colin answered the intercom, he wondered how dedicated and serious Colin is about this, anyway. Because honestly, he told him to pack, didn't he? Why is he saying nonsensical things like _we didn't say anything for certain_ and _you didn't even reply to my last text_ and _are we going alone?_ Because of course they're going alone, dumbass, who else would they bring? Eoin? The _Queen_?(Though there’s sometimes not much of a difference between the two.)

But no, ah, Bradley sees it now. It's a test. It must be. Colin's testing him if he's suitable. Like that time on set when he pretended to be annoyed just so Bradley kept asking "why". It started with Colin's innocent _I think I'm gonna go stretch my legs_ and ended - 15 or so why's later - with _Because you're annoying when you keep asking why_ , which, Bradley figured, if it was a test - like it so blatantly was, okay - meant that he's done well and that _annoying when you keep asking why_ actually means _so hot yes I will sit on your face later._  
Later that evening, Bradley was a little bit surprised that he and his face were spending the evening alone, but figured Colin was indisposed somewhere else and really couldn't come over no matter how much he actually wanted. Which he obviously did. Because Bradley passed the examination. So he waited patiently downstairs by the car and exactly 32 minutes later, Colin and his suitcase emerged from the building.

 

*******

 

The beginning of their trip hasn’t actually started the way Bradley would like. He usually doesn’t like to re-live the _facepalm_ bits, he’s like your regular ostrich or a fangirl – something embarrassing happens and they’ll all stick their heads in a dug-up hole somewhere and never come back out – but he’ll do it. For you.

1\. Colin spent most of the ride napping. Which, fine, it’s adorable as fuck because have you seen baby birds sleeping, it’s pretty much the same thing, but Bradley had memorized several humorous anecdotes about famous dead people he would share with Colin and as a result grow infinitely in Colin’s mind (hopefully ~~cock~~ heart as well), but Colin would apparently have none of that.

2\. The loo stop at some dodgy petrol station left Bradley fuming because Colin also bought some water and chewing gum and the bloke behind the counter went out of his way to flirt with him, and didn’t even stop when Bradley tried to – with the power of his Jedi eyes – let him know this little creature with a magical ass was _off limits_.

3\. The cottage, when they finally got to it, was naturally cold as fuck. It’s been empty for a while and though the shed behind it was filled with wood, there was none chopped to get the fireplace going, and Colin was turning blue before Bradley even located the axe. He tried to turn this into a show of beefy arms and animal strength when Colin watched him from inside as he chopped the wood like some Sexually Frustrated God of Fire-wood and Pink Earmuffs (the only head-garment he found in the closet, undoubtedly belonging to some female family member), sticking his butt out to expose his most prominent feature, but he had no idea if any of that worked. Colin’s pokerface was legendary.

4\. He brought food, and he even did it with Colin’s diet in mind, but apparently Colin “can’t do magic with a pack of cabbage and beans and tofu if you brought nothing else”, so Bradley’s idea of a romantic dinner by the candlelight and crackling fire was somewhat doused as they wolfed down the warmed-up cabbage soup wrapped up in blankets by the fire place.

Which doesn’t sound so bad.

Actually it was quite nice.

When Colin put down his bowl he even huddled closer to Bradley for warmth and hummed some lullaby-ish song.

Okay maybe Bradley scored a point there.

 

*******

 

_Later that evening_

from: Eoin  
hey gurl heyyy

from: Bradley  
guuurl

from: Eoin  
Mmmhmm

from: Bradley  
sup ho

from: Eoin  
ho ho ho,

from: Bradley  
merry xmas!

from: Eoin  
I must say

from: Bradley  
yes?

from: Eoin  
I am enjoying this rather riveting conversation

from: Bradley  
as am I

from: Eoin  
you are an exquisite conversationalist

from: Bradley  
as are you

from: Eoin  
Now that we're done with the pleasantries ------ SO?

from: Bradley  
what

from: Eoin  
Anything yet? Is the cat in the sack? Or bun in the oven?

from: Bradley  
no :(

from: Eoin  
:(

from: Bradley  
:((

from: Eoin  
:'((

from: Bradley  
but we did cuddle!

from: Eoin  
YAY :D

from: Bradley  
i know omg

from: Eoin  
How did THAT happen though?  
(And seriously, if you actually got to the cuddling bit, how hard would it be to extend things to some baking?)

from: Bradley  
well I had bacon for breakfast, so there was cooking?

from: Eoin  
no no no. no. BAKING is what you want

from: Bradley  
I do?

from: Eoin  
yes.

from: Bradley  
why baking? i like my bacon fried

from: Eoin  
no not actual /food/ you pillock. your BUN. in his OVEN. Baking.

from: Bradley  
ohhh

from: Eoin  
Mmhmmm. That's what i'm sayin

from: Bradley  
guuurl

from: Eoin  
Don't make me come over and slap yo ass

from: Bradley  
honey dream ON

from: Eoin  
stupid ho

from: Bradley  
you are

from: Eoin  
you

from: Bradley  
no that's you what am i?

from: Eoin  
you are

from: Eoin  
wait what were we talking about?

from: Bradley  
colin&i cuddled :D

from: Eoin  
Spooning leads to forking!

from: Bradley  
awww yeah!

from: Eoin  
so when are you gonna?

from: Bradley  
what? Fork?

from: Eoin  
fornicate

from: Bradley  
mmmmm fornicashun

from: Eoin  
oh oh

from: Bradley  
what

from: Eoin  
oh man

from: Bradley  
whaaat

from: Eoin  
FORKNICATION

from: Bradley  
you are my muse

from: Eoin  
oh man I'm awesome

from: Bradley  
g2g cols is wretsling mefor thge phoneslskj

 

_Simultaneously on the other side of the sofa_

 

from: Eoin  
hey gurl heyyy

from: Colin  
What do you want?

from: Eoin  
cranky, much?

from: Colin  
I already have to deal with one idiot here.

from: Eoin  
yourself?

from: Colin  
Piss off :P

from: Eoin  
:3 what are you two up to?

from: Colin  
Oh god.

from: Eoin  
YOU MUST TELL ME

from: Colin  
Bradley wanted to order McDonalds.

from: Eoin  
awww yeah Big Mackens!

from: Colin  
No, not Big Macs, Eoin, there are no McDonalds stores for miiiiles around.

from: Eoin  
:(

from: Colin  
But he dug out a number of some McDonalds place anyway.

from: Eoin  
man with the plan!

from: Colin  
And he called them.

from: Eoin  
are they gonna deliver?

from: Colin  
Eoin the place he called was in Ireland.

from: Eoin  
so are they gonna deliver?

from: Colin  
You're worse than he is, why didn't the two of you go away for the weekend together?

from: Eoin  
Because the IRA would bomb the cottage?

from: Colin  
Good point.

from: Eoin  
what happened with the McDs then?

from: Colin  
...

from: Eoin  
omg what

from: Colin  
They hung up.

from: Eoin  
why?

from: Colin  
Because the idiot asked if he could order McBeer.

from: Eoin  
OMG he's my muse

from: Colin  
I'm not replying anymore, Eoin.

from: Eoin  
you still are ;)

from: Colin  
Am not.

from: Eoin  
are too

from: Colin  
I wonder to whom Bradley is texting right now though.

from: Eoin  
oh that'd be me

from: Colin  
??

from: Eoin  
I asked him if he put the bun in the oven yet

from: Colin  
Oh god do I even want to know?

from: Eoin  
he replied with a sad face :(

from: Colin  
Bye, Eoin.

from: Eoin  
:O

from: Eoin  
talk to meee

from: Eoin  
Colinnn

from: Eoin  
Colin Colin Colin

from: Colin  
What?

from: Eoin  
how's your oven?

from: Colin  
What??

from: Eoin  
I bet he has a nice bun

from: Colin  
Oh my god.

from: Eoin  
:D

from: Eoin  
:Đ

from: Eoin  
xD

from: Eoin  
I rock

 

***

 

An hour and two bottles of Pinot Noir (thank fuck the pantry was stacked with booze) later, Bradley isn't quite sure how he pulled it off. Not that he's doubting his abilities, mind you, because he's been proven to be able to coax Colin into all sorts of odd shit in the past, but _this_ one tops them all. He's pretty sure he'd have Eoin's approval, and that's saying something. Bradley's kinda proud - or, he _will_ be, maybe tomorrow when he sobers up, but right now he's just all sorts of ridiculously excited, exasperated and turned on all at once.

It's not every day that Colin raids a wardrobe full of family-owned male/female/unisex clothes with you, blissfully smashed, and is giving you his personal project runway. In women's clothes. (The fact that these clothes probably belong to your poor, unsuspecting mother, and the rest of your female relatives with only an odd article of clothing left behind by some other female visitor, is irrelevant at the moment, because -- _well_. Did you read all that was said before this?)

"Colin, Colin."  
"That's Miss Legs for you."  
"What am I, then?"

Colin cocks his head to the side and purses his lips. "Sugar tits."

Bradley thinks he's going to marry this man. He goes to the kitchenette to find a round type of pasta or some onion rings or whatever that could serve as a ring because he's in a perfectly right mind to do it, he wants to do it, he'll go down on one knee and say- _Miss Long Legs, please be mine forever_ , but before he has a chance to decide if a ring made out from string cheese would give Colin's skin any rashes, he turns around at the noise and-

Jesus _Shit_.

Colin's drunk stumble to the kitchen nook is surprisingly graceful, and then he poses, his right hip jutting out and his right hand on it like he's been working the corner all of his life, and apparently he's decided to spice things up a bit because he's no longer wearing just a Scottish _kilt_ over his jeans - no wait, where the fuck did the jeans go oh holy heaven and hell - and a fuckton of jewelry, a flower in his hair included, no, somewhere, somehow he's managed to find a pink bikini-bra and even more shockingly, managed to put it on over his tight green shirt the right way and - Bradley's once again ignoring the fact it's one of his relatives’ bathing suit –

"I'll pay you for a lap dance."

He's too smashed to clamp a hand over his mouth because he knows he has no filter when alcohol's involved, and right now he really couldn't care less about things like filters or propriety or embarrassment that the summer dress he's wearing might be getting a bit tight over the crotch area - or the fact that Colin in a bra is apparently one of the hottest things he's ever seen - he's long accepted he's a kinky bastard and Colin seems to be right on the same page with him because he takes a swing from the bottle, shrugs and adjusts his bra. And the fact that there's nothing to adjust the bra _for_ goes unnoticed by both of them. He licks his wine-stained lips and Bradley wants to whimper, and he would, but he's forgot how to do that because Colin's stalking forward, those long legs making the kilt swish, and a new song starts on the radio. It's something fast and sensual and _sexual_ \- probably Rihanna, the sole still-working part of Bradley's brain suggests - and Bradley finds himself backing away in the general direction of a chair.

Colin's eyes are ablaze. "You want a lap dance, huh?"  
He draws it out like he's trying out the words in his mouth with his tongue, which makes Bradley swallow hard, and like he's not as drunk as he's appearing to be but Bradley has no time to think about this because –  
"Yes," he manages. "Yes," and oh, there's the chair and he doesn't remember sitting down but he must have done it _somehow_ because Colin is suddenly looming over him, an unexpected look of lust on his face for a moment.

" _So_ -" and again he stretches the syllable and puckers his lovely lips around the sound, and Bradley wishes he'd get on with it before the bloody song ends, "-monsieur says he'd pay, oui?"  
Oh lord, not _French_ , no no, Bradley closes his eyes for a moment because if Colin speaks French or just english with an Irish-French combo accent he'll _die_ , for sure, but that’d be terrible because what he really wants is this lap dance, he'll do anything -  
"Ye-s?" He barely manages.

"Hmmm." Colin's arms grip the back of the chair behind his neck and he bends down, close, so close, rolling his hips to the music and whispers, "With what currency?"

Bradley only notices the hips, and the bikini, and asks, rather stupidly, "What?"

Colin comes to hover closer, his legs still not quite on either side of Bradley, but oh fuck, he's pulling the skirt up and Bradley swallows and doesn't even remember that he forgot what Colin's asked him. Colin moves his hips again, skirt bunched up high on his thighs and finally straddles him, in mid-air, not really fully sitting down. He moves slowly and it's odd, the song is fast, if it even is still the same song because all Bradley hears at the moment is distant drums that could very well be his vital organs shutting down. The rest of his hearing sense is invaded by the feel of Colin's warmth so close to him and the feint smell of his spicy clean cologne and his skin, _oh god_ , and it's funny how his slow moves are in perfect rhythm with the fast beats of the song. He doesn't know where to look, it's a shame to neglect any part of the body surrounding him, but he can't help it, it's the hips that claim his full and undivided attention, those narrow hips that roll so sensually in perfect line with his chest and the kilt riding higher is making him dizzy and shit, is Colin saying something?

"What?"

"I said," and Colin slides his lean fingers up his own neck into his hair while his hips jump forward just a little bit and Bradley's almost mesmerized with all that skin, but he dare not touch, not yet, not when he's not sure Colin wants this and is even sober enough to know what's going on, "what currency. You'll pay. Me in."  
The song skips and something faster, either a new one or just a faster part of it, starts playing and Colin turns, he actually turns and almost grinds his ass into Bradley's lap.  
"Anything!" It's a yelp and he's fully aware of it but not above himself to admit it. "Money, gold, land, _tofu_ , anyth-"

Colin turns, again, and his cheeks are flushed, those glorious cheekbones red and shiny and Bradley forgets to breathe when he sees a myriad of emotions flash across his face, an odd mixture of lust and wine-induced haze and for a moment he thinks he sees something like anger and determination, but he's not sure and either way it's hot as hell and fuck, Colin straddles him again and brings his hips down, hard, into his lap and Bradley yelps again.

"What," Colin pants, and rolls his lower body in time with the drums and piano beats again, "if I _don't want_ to be paid?" His fingers pull on Bradley's hair and Jesus, what is he on about, didn't he just tell him he'd give him anything?

"What?" He knows he sounds weak and repetitive and out of breath and probably more than a little bit stupid, but it's all he can manage, honestly.

Colin's hips still and he breathes hot and heavy, right into Bradley's ear - "I don't want money for this-" and Bradley starts to make a sound because didn't Colin hear, he can have anything else, but it's like Colin knows him, or can read his mind because he growls "or _tofu_ , you idiot."

What? "What?"

Colin noses his ear then and Bradley wants to reciprocate so badly, he does, because forget about his ears, he wants to worship Colin's, but surprises aren't over yet, he suddenly feels teeth on his ear and he arches up, as much as he actually can with Colin in his lap and shit his mum's dress is completely ruined, isn't it, he's stretched the middle section of it into oblivion and Colin can probably feel how hard he is, when Colin presses him down into the chair and continues into his ear, "You've been such a bloody tease for months now, Bradley."

His response comes in a form of a shaky breath, which seems to be enough for Colin, who plunges on. "You've been driving me up the fucking _wall_. I was afraid to be alone with you, and do you know why?"

Bradley shakes his head and feels pulsing in his groin. _Please please please dear cock I'm so sorry to put you through this, but please don't shoot in my mum's dress, I beg you_ , he manages to think, because bossy and in control Colin with that low, growly voice of his in Irish accent is just about the fucking hottest thing in the world and he's pretty sure he could come from listening to him speak like that alone, never mind the grinding of his hips in his lap.  
"Why," he sobs, actually sobs, and feels Colin's hips stutter momentarily.  
"I'm not afraid of you, Bradley. I was afraid what _I'd_ do to _you_ , and if you'd survive if I ravished you the way I wanted."

"Ravish?" Bradley knows he has no right to sound so excited and eager and hopeful about something that might put him in a coma or even kill him, but the prospect of Colin doing that to him is just too welcome and desirable to pass.  
"And here's the thing, Bradley."  
"Uh?"  
"If you were just teasing, we might have a problem. If you were, then tell me now, but if you weren't, then-" Bradley feels Colin's hips stutter again and his cheek is hot against his own as Colin's head is bent down and forward to be in level with his, "then you have to know I've got it bad for your stupid face and your stupid jaw-line and your even more stupid sense of humour which just _does_ something to me and you're afraid of spiders, don’t deny it because why else would you come and get me to be with you, god _damn_ it, what grown up man is afraid of _spiders_?"

A new song starts, fastest one yet, and Bradley just whines, one long, low whine of plea, and he hopes Colin understands him, the frequency of it, which he maybe does, because he lifts his head up and the slight height advantage he has from sitting in Bradley's lap is to his favour because he tugs on Bradley's hair to tip his head back and stares down at him, his eyes half-lidded and his lips red and so, _so_ inviting.

"And Bradley?"  
Bradley manages an inquiring sound, all his blood in his cock for ages now, as he locks eyes with Colin.  
"I never said you can't _touch_."

Bradley moans, actually moans in relief and his hands shoot up from behind the back of the chair he was clutching, holding on for dear life while Colin was torturing him, and grabs onto the hot skin of Colin's thighs. He knows his grip is hard, maybe enough to bruise, but now that he's allowed to touch Colin like this he isn't about to stop anytime soon. Colin keeps a firm grip on his neck and slams his mouth down on Bradley's and oh lord up in heaven and his friends and their mums, Colin's lips, and they feel even better than they look and he's licking into his mouth and Bradley can only respond and try to keep up as his body shudders, helpless at this invasion. If he'd have a control of his voice he'd offer the gold and the land again, but he now knows he doesn't have to, because for some demented reason Colin only seems to want _him_ , which is - wow. Yeah this is fucking _brilliant_ , actually, and Bradley kisses back with more enthusiasm than he had even when he was five and climbed the slides and the monkey bars from the bottom way up. The skin of Colin's thighs is burning his palms, he feels on fire, and for a moment Bradley wonders which of them is burning up, and reasons it might be both, and then slides his hands up and under the bunched up skirt.

 _Fucking hell_. He breaks the kiss and whines, half-blind with arousal. "You're not wearing anything underneath."

Colin pants and goes for his neck, not bothering with an answer. The bite is like an electroshock through Bradley's body and he clutches at the bare hips, skin surprisingly soft there.  
"The clothes," he manages, catching Colin's lips when he lifts his head and murmurs to him, "we need to get naked."  
Colin's hands shoot for the numerous buttons of the dress Bradley is wearing, and Bradley grins for a moment because that is so _precious_ , Colin actually thinks this dress isn't beyond saving, but Bradley knows better, and slides his hands, which are still under the skirt on Colin's hips, around the front and brushes Colin's cock.

Colin jerks hard and curses a second later, his hands leaving the buttons and once again tug hard on Bradley's hair. Bradley runs the fingers of one hand over the length of him, slowly but very deliberately inching his way towards the tip, with the remaining fingers pressing at his balls. Colin's head falls forward, mouth at Bradley's temple, and breathes in short, laboured pants. "Oh, _god_."

 

_(manip by rou/brolinskeep)_

 

Bradley's fingers encircle him, then, and Colin pushes forward into his fist.  
"Now that I have you where I want," Bradley purrs and it's Colin now, who whimpers helplessly and just takes whatever is coming, "I can tell you how I feel about _you_.  
Your fucking ears, Colin," he murmurs and licks at the body part in question, "are going to be the death of me." Colin gasps, as if he doesn't quite buy that, but Bradley bites at his earlobe then and breathes hard, "you better believe me, or I'm going to prove it by licking them until you come from that alone."  
When there are no more protests and Colin's hips snap forward again, he continues.  
"Also your cheekbones. Do you have _any_ idea how many times I've imagined you sucking me off with those mouth and cheeks around me?" He tightens his grip and Colin shudders deliciously.  
"And when we're alone, I want you to stop using British English, because your Irish accent is the sexiest thing I've _ever_ heard."

His other hand comes up for air then and he slides it back around Colin's hips to support his ass. Colin moves faster and pushes harder into the tightness of his fingers, but they're way overdressed and there's so much alcohol in their system and they're sweaty, so Bradley's hand, the one on Colin's ass, slips a bit and his fingers brush the skin close to his entrance. Colin throws his head back and moans and Bradley can't anymore, he just can't-

"Sit on my _face_."  
Colin's head snaps back and he looks confused - half-way to coming, sure, but confused too -  
"What?"  
"Please, just let me taste-"  
"Oh god."

Colin scrambles from his lap and for agonizingly long two seconds Bradley thinks he has fucked up, but then Colin is pulling him up and is crouching back down in front of the chair with his elbows resting on the seat and _Christ almighty_ , Bradley thinks he's going to faint at the sight in front of him.  
He doesn't even need to lift the kilt up to see his target, he just falls on his knees and pushes forward, licking at the exposed skin. Colin jerks again and pants something that might be Bradley's name but it could also be the first third of the French alphabet and clutches harder at the chair. Bradley tries to steady him by holding his hips and keeping him open to him, laving at the hot skin with his tongue, pushing at all the smoothness and tiny ridges he finds. He's wanted this for so long, fantasized about it and even wanked to the thoughts of it, and now that he has it he wants to do everything at once, he licks slow and hard, then light and fleeting, small licks around the hole and then pushes his tongue down hard and Colin in front of him sobs out a litany of _fuck fuck fuck, Bradley_ and then he breeches through, his tongue pushing into something tight and hot, and Colin is wailing some alphabet again and pushes back against his face. He sucks hard and revels in the sounds that Colin makes, the moans, half-muffled by his arms into which he's pressing his face and the loud gasps that escape him regardless of how he still tries to maintain a shred of composure, and suddenly Colin turns around, looking half-blown to pearly gates of hell and back, his hair glistening with – where did he find glitter Bradley didn’t even notice until now, and begs, downright begs,  
"I need you to fuck me."

Bradley shudders and his head falls back onto the Scottish kilt. He exhales in relief because obviously Colin wants _all_ of this as well -  
"I thought you-"  
"I can fuck you later if you want but please Bradley, god, _just do it_."  
And Colin doesn't even know he's babbling, that's how much he wants it, until he turns around and is toppling Bradley on the floor and kissing and kissing him while Bradley’s murmuring _yes, yes_ against his lips.

"Bedroom," Bradley manages to pant, though he wonders if he is actually capable of moving. He's been hard for so long it's nearly painful now and he doesn't mind if they stay where they are but they need things, and the things are not in the kitchen.  
"Why?" Colin seems to agree with the first part and it doesn't seem he got to the second one on his own yet because he's making it harder for Bradley to get up by the second. Bradley thinks he's never had his neck sucked on so thoroughly and his cock twitches in his pants when he wonders if Colin's this enthusiastic about sucking on other things, too.  
"We need to move."  
"Here is fine."  
"The things are in the bedroom."  
"What, mmm, things?" Colin's moved to suck something beautiful on his clavicle now and Bradley was very close to agreeing- what things, indeed.  
"Things for me to fuck you with."

Like earlier on the chair, Colin was up in point 4 seconds, dragging Bradley towards the master bedroom, and in between getting his clothes ripped off, Bradley has just enough time and working brain cells to wonder when did his Colin the Unicorn turn into Colin the Steed who's about to fuck up the whole land. Or, rather less figuratively and quite literally, _Bradley_.

When the clothes are finally shed – sans the flower in Colin’s glittery hair because they both agree it suits him an awful lot but it’s to be their little secret ( _absolutely no telling Eoin, Bradley, I’m serious_ ) – Bradley finds himself on his back, straddled enthusiastically and in a flow of fast moving hips and limbs. The whole preparation thing has gone over his head, Colin must have prepped himself, at least if his moans were anything to go by, and now he’s watching Colin through a drunken haze of wine and lashes and feelings, of all things; he knew they were there and he knew it was a ridiculous amount of them too, but this, Colin on top of him, naked, with mascara smudged and still so damn _manly_ with his chest hair and lean physique and low moans, it’s a lot to take in and Bradley nearly gets so side-tracked he forgets he’s moments away from coming his wits out. He tries to pace himself, somehow, which is next to impossible if you’re not the one setting the pace, but he clutches at Colin and counts all the birthmarks on his torso for distractions, and a little bit out of curiosity as well.

Colin grins, sweaty and delightful, lips still lightly stained from deep, dark wine, as he takes one of Bradley’s hands and puts it on his cock. “Try to keep up,” he smirks, all tease and no bite, but it’s enough to get Bradley’s racing mind back to the matter at hand.  
…A rather hard, lovely matter, to be quite honest.

He starts getting Colin off, and tries to do it in more or less perfect rhythm of whatever Colin is doing with his hips, which is to say it’s fast and brilliant and nearing the climax, when Colin leans over. Bradley expects a face full of Colin, but then realizes Colin is leaning a bit to the left, towards the night stand.  
“What-“  
Colin straightens back up, something resembling a small tube in his hands. He opens it, and as he starts applying it, Bradley realizes it’s _lipstick_. The colour is plum, a dark plum, and goes terrifically with Colin’s whole ensemble. Bradley whines, and starts jerking Colin off faster, they’ve been hard for two hours straight and need to come this minute or their dicks will fall off, and then Colin puckers up, smiles maniacally, and throws the lipstick god knows where before he leans over to kiss him. Smelling something berry-like and a musky Colin underneath is all Bradley needs, as he comes, a shock of waves upon him stronger than heartbeat and luckily milder than a heart attack.

 

***

 

It’s still early hours of the morning when Bradley makes himself get up. Colin is blissfully unaware of the mess around them, and of the up-coming hangover he’s about to face. Bradley pets his hair, unable to stop himself, and smirks as Colin lets out a snore and disappears further into the nest of blankets. He vaguely remembers Colin collapsing onto him last night, spent and panting and in love, refusing to move until it kind of grosses both of them out how sticky and sweaty they actually are. He remembers the warm shower and glitter everywhere, he remembers Colin trying to tidy up whatever was left from the pile of clothes they stripped out of so carelessly. He remembers grabbing Colin, first (priorities, man), pushing him towards the bed, and grabbing the clothes second and throwing them into the hamper.

He’s back less than an hour later, grocery bag full of breakfast food and Colin still asleep, and it’s not until Bradley makes a stack of only slightly-burnt (with lactose free milk, might he proudly add) pancakes for both of them, that the scent of food and freshly brewed coffee lures Colin out of his pillow heaven. They sit on the carpet next to the fireplace in silence, and eat their breakfast using hands despite Bradley supplying the forks. He remembers Eoin’s “ _forknication_ ” and grins into his plate, and he doesn’t know what Colin’s thinking when he sees him smiling back, but it’s all smiles and quick glances and red ear tips from then on until Bradley decides if he survived the making of the pancakes, he can surely brave other things too, and quickly leans over to kiss him. Colin laughs into his mouth and kisses back, and it gets a whole lot hotter than the fire has any right to credit itself for, and Bradley starts thinking of pulling Colin back to the bedroom for round two, when the front door of the cottage opens.

 

***

 

In hindsight, Bradley admits his plan had a minor flaw in that he should probably let his parents know that the house will be occupied that weekend.

Also, in all honesty, the weekend still proved to be fantastic, because his parents are brilliant, okay, and before Colin could have a mother of all fits and expire right then and there on the carpet – thank fuck they were both dressed – Bradley’s dad dumped a Santa bag of food on the counter with a mere “Oh I didn’t think you’d be here lads,” and his mom bursting in with a sunshine aura of her own, squeaking how lovely it is to see them. Colin did lose his gift of speech for a while, but in comparison to dying it was a small price to be paid.

They stayed for the rest of the day, properly fed and watered, lounging on the couch and chatting while Bradley’s parents filled them in on whatever they’ve been up to. Bradley was thankful that nobody said a word about the general mess or empty bottles, sneaking to the bathroom after lunch, packing the clothes from the night before into his suitcase. He’ll give them a proper washing at home, because that was one embarrassment he’d never actually survive if it ever got out.

In the evening when Bradley felt that Colin was terribly far away all day and when Colin, _the bastard_ , seemed to know exactly what was going on inside his head and thus started giving him hooded, long looks, Bradley told a poorly constructed, impromptu lie how they were about to leave that evening since they’ve been here for a few days already, and Colin, _the bastard: the sequel_ , just grinned at him, not helping and probably punishing him for having parents sprung upon him without warning; his mom naturally wanted them to stay longer but his dad, also the bastard – why was he surrounded by bastards? – just smirked and disappeared behind his book as if he knew everything in the world about _everything_.

Bradley was worried Colin might want to be taken home or would sleep all the way back, but he apparently needn’t worry as it turned out that a tired, yawning Colin was a fucking class A act (and with Colin, you really shouldn’t be surprised) and was, as soon as they pulled out, all hands and lips and filthy words of even filthier promises. By the time they finally made it to Bradley’s flat it was several hours, two stops in the dark and two make out sessions with sweet kisses and gasped out proclamations in the car later, with barely anything left unsaid.

They both had, however, several unanswered calls from Eoin, and an identical urgent text message from that morning, that said –

From: Eoin  
GUYS ERR I THINK I ACCIDENTALLY GAVE YOUR PARENTS AN IDEA TO GO TO THE COTTAGE PLEASE PUT SOME CLOTHES ON JUST IN CASE AND PLEASE CALL ME ASAP SO I CAN APOLOGIZE AND EXPLAIN AND ALSO BRIBE YOU I’LL BUY YOU CONDOMS FOR A YEAR YEAH?


End file.
